Our Two Summers
by Sunshinegirl010
Summary: "Those summers were ours, no matter what her parents or friends had to say. I loved her and she loved me, and that was the only comfort and truth that I ever needed to know." Ezra/Aria. A/U


_Hi!_

 _It has been so long (too long) since I have written any type of fiction. Not to mention how long it has been since I've written an Aria/Ezra fiction! I am super excited to delve back into writing and I have just really missed this ship! They are so perfect (at least in my world, they have problems that get solved relatively quickly Marlene King!)_

 _Anyway, this is a little different than what I used to write. Mostly I stuck to smut between the two characters…because I mean, Ezria sex who doesn't dig it. But now I just want to try something new!_

 _This will be an A/U fic, but I want to hear feedback from you guys. I've written a prologue that kind of explains everything that will potentially happen in the story without going into great detail. I want to know if this is something that you all would like to read? I'm a little nervous, as I've never really done an A/U for this couple before!_

 _Just let me know and I will greatly appreciate it!_

 _-Katherine_

We were wrong to think there would not be repercussions of our actions. In a situation like ours, there was no other foreseeable outcome but fallout. And yet, we still thought ourselves invincible, untouchable…safe. We were nothing if not the others forbidden fruit, which only made the other that much more appealing and grand. We both loved literature, and what was literature but one great unrequited love story. At least the good ones.

The ones that keep you coming back for more and push and pull you to the edge of our seat, until you feel just as frustrated as the protagonist in the story. It will not loosen its grip on your mind. It claims your every thought. Every emotion, until you've finished the last sentence in the novel. In most cases it does not end there, especially if the ending was not everything you'd hoped it would be. It lives in the depths of your mind, calling to you in daydreams and nightmares alike, giving you more agreeable scenarios in which the words that made the story could have played out. But then you come back to reality, and the words are unchanged, the scenarios unreal, and the characters have met the same untimely end as they did weeks ago when you finished the book.

That describes exactly what we were. One big love story, longer than Gone with the Wind that refused to change its final utterance of "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn." We were never going to be able to change our words, for they were forever printed in ink that could not be erased. Our books may have yet to be completely filled, but the chapter that was us, is in its last words as I watch her walk away from me with a longing that is almost impossible to stomach. She doesn't want this. I could see it in the way her eyes were round and frightened earlier when she kissed me farewell, I can see it now as she rhythmically walks down the sidewalk and out of my life forever, I will forever see it in the times that I will think back to this moment, when I lost my everything.

Our love story was anything but perfect. We infuriated each other, constantly remained in combat over our insecurities and differences. She challenged me incessantly, tried to push me around, but I did the same. I made her look inside of herself and see that she was more than the little rich girl that her parents had raised. I was a neat freak, she had a tendency to be a slob. I didn't like to be romantic, and she liked romance. She didn't like mornings, and all day was my favorite time. But for all of our differences, there were enough similarities to keep us sane, to keep us together. We are not being pulled apart by choice, at least not my own. She made her decision, now we both had to live with the repercussions.

I know that I am not what her family expects. I play bass in a band, smoke the green and have tattoos on my arms. I realize that I could never give her the life that she is accustomed to, that she deserves. But what does that matter when I have made her happier the past two summers, than she has ever been in eighteen years?

She told me once that she was pretty sure who she would end up having to marry one day. Some guy (that I refuse to remember the name of) that her father had always liked, from a family that his company did business with. She's always been good friends with the guy, loved him like a brother. But there wasn't any real love there. Genuine love. Make you go crazy, out of your mind love that swallows your body whole and makes you want to spend every waking moment with that significant other. She said she'd never felt that way about anyone but me, I guess she decided I wasn't worth the risk.

When we met, I just wanted to get laid. She introduced herself as Aria, I introduced myself as Ezra, and that was where our epic failure began. She'd come to watch the band play at _The Shack_ , the local bar in the town of her families summer home. I remember she still smelled like the ocean and suntan lotion, a sexy combination in the beginning of the summer, and I'd just broken up with my girlfriend three weeks before, giving me ample reasons to find my next one night stand to get over her. Aria ended up being anything but a rebound.

I'd never met a girl that could piss me off and make me want to kiss her at the same time. She had no problem expressing her views and opinions on things that would clearly upset the person she told them to. She just had a fire and life that was so passionate and unguarded. Before you get to know her, she is so sure of herself, nothing will stand in her way. Or so you think. But in spending the past summer with her, I've learned more than my fair share about what she was really like, and there is defiantly more than meets the eye.

After convincing her to leave the bar with me that night, I'd thought I had it sealed in the bag in the getting laid department, but ended up being anything but wrong. She was drunk, really drunk. And in all of my life, I'd never taken advantage of a drunken girl. I didn't want that on my conscience it was fully stocked as it was. So I took her to the house that I shared with the rest of the guys in the band, laid her down in my bed and left it at that. She woke up the next morning pissed off and hung over, but I can still see her sitting at our messy kitchen table, her hair in a mess sipping on orange juice and an aspirin.

Before long, Aria at our house became a frequent occurrence. In the beginning she would just come over and listen to me and the guys strum around on guitars in the front yard. We usually always had campfire going, our lawn chairs circled religiously around the fire as we played random music to pass away the nights when we didn't have a gig or a party to go to. She became a staple on those nights. I got accustomed to the comfort her presence brought to those nights we spent underneath the stars. On most occasions, she and I would end up the only ones around a dying fire, the smoke burning our noses as I slowly strummed the chords to an acoustic version of an old _Beatles_ song.

As time passed, and weeks turned to the months that ended our summer, we grew closer and eventually formed a relationship. She was the best one night stand I never had. I learned that she was four years younger than me, eighteen and fresh out of high school. She was from a small town in innermost Virginia, where the families there were known for their wealth and class. Her parents, who were the constant scandal in the said small town due to her father's unwavering infidelity, always brought Aria, her siblings, and some of her closest friends with them every summer to enjoy their beach house in Chincoteague, Virginia.

It was a small sleepy little town that brought in tourists that never stayed for too long, but enjoyed the peacefulness that accompanied the small town and small beach in eastern Virginia. Aria had once told him that they'd come there every summer for as long as she could remember. Ezra had lived there for as long as he could remember. His Mom had moved them to Chincoteague after his Dad left them and never turned back. She worked as the towns librarian, and he'd spent every summer there as a kid, where he was sure he'd picked up on his love of literature.

He couldn't remember a day in his life where he didn't read something with purpose. His mother always had a new book to place in his hand, giving him an unexplainable need to let words flow through him like nothing else ever could. He guessed that's where his love of music came from. Songs were nothing without the lyrics that made it all worthwhile. Words were his life, although he didn't speak them much, and he could never find a good reason to say something unless it was going to make a difference.

So he said nothing, allowing his siren's shadow become smaller and smaller on the sidewalk as she receded from his view. He searched in vain for the words that would be worth something now, anything that would make her turn back around and give him that apologetic look he'd seen so many times before after their many arguments. However, he knew it was too late. With a sigh he turned away from her receding form, allowing himself a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, trying to not to think about the girl who'd swooped him up in a long summer and even longer nights, and walked away from her memory for forever.


End file.
